


Noodling Around

by mitochondriencocktail



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), But really it's smut, Character Study, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26256046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondriencocktail/pseuds/mitochondriencocktail
Summary: At 24, Wei moves to Republic City to pursue a career in Probending. At 26, Bolin is still flitting around from career to career, and he's currently a Probending trainer. The two come together in unexpected ways (no pun intended! I swear!) and this is just a small snippet from this universe where I explore their interactions/try to carve more of a personality out for Wei. It also, uh, happens to be smut.
Relationships: Bolin/Wei (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Noodling Around

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comment, drink a glass of water if you so wish. Feedback simply encourages me to keep sharing content.
> 
> Also, yes, I headcanon Wei as 2 inches taller than Bolin.

Bolin lets out a soft groan, surprising himself and Wei. The apartment is otherwise quiet save for the natural hum of the city outside. He’s on his back in their cramped living room, fingers bunched up in his tank top as he clenches it tight, the soft of his stomach exposed and on display. A light dusting of dark hair trails down from his navel to just below the waistband of his trousers where Wei has his fingers hooked into.

“Is this… alright?” Wei swallows and his mouth feels a little dry. 

“Yeah,” Bolin nods feverishly, “Yeah, yeah, yes. Please. Keep going. If- if you want to.” Bolin looks up at him through his lashes, an unabashed flush of color across Bolin’s face, and Wei’s breath catches in his throat. One thing he could rarely understand about Bolin was how easily he showed his hand; never any guessing, never any deceit. Wei almost always knew what Bolin was thinking or feeling, whether it was because Bolin was telling him out loud or if it was just an expression on his face. 

To think that even after all those years on the streets, sleeping in alleyways and running with streetgangs, Bolin was still so willing to wear his heart on his sleeve. 

Wei slides Bolin’s trousers a little further down to his knees, unsure exactly where to look. Eye contact feels too intimate, but below the waistband seems too intimidating. A hand lands on Wei’s arm; gentle, reassuring. 

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Bolin says. “Or…” A breath. “I could help you out.” Wei meets his eyes at that. He sits straddled across Bolin on the floor and realizes suddenly that his hands are trembling just slightly. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bolin says. He motions to sit up and Wei lets him, sliding off to the side. He can’t meet Bolin’s eyes again. “We can stop. I am so sorry if I did something wrong.”

Wei bristles at the idea of that. He never backs down from a challenge. 

“No, I want to.” With that, he shoves Bolin back down and inhales sharply, climbing atop him once more. Wei needs to know, just for a moment even, if what he’s feeling is actually tangible- or just another passing distraction. Wei kisses Bolin hard, surprising the man underneath him. “I’m going to make you feel good,” Wei promises, a rough, hungry edge to his voice. 

Bolin lets out a groan as Wei works his way down; peppering gentle kisses down along his neck, following the muscle and sinew down along his chest and earning a gentle thrust of hips beneath him. 

“Wei, you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Wei growls out. “I’m going to.” He exhales against Bolin’s hip and feels a swell of pride at the reaction his words elicit. “You think you can just keep giving and giving, helping me out, and not expect anything in return?”

“What?” Bolin says, breaking through the haze of his arousal for a moment. But, before he can ask further, Wei slides his boxers down and takes Bolin into his mouth and all chance of conversation dies there. “Oh, oh, oh, oh… oh, holy shit, Wei.” A hand fists itself into Wei’s hair, but it doesn’t push or pull. It simply grounds itself there and Wei slides his mouth off, swapping it to pump Bolin a few times with his hand; slower at the top, a light squeeze, thumb over the head. Bolin squirms underneath him, the hand in his hair sliding down his neck and to his shoulder where it grips hard.

“It feels so good,” Bolin pants, his breath ragged and mouth slack. He’s looking directly at Wei. “It feels so good,” he repeats, almost as if in disbelief. Wei watches Bolin bring his other hand up to his mouth to bite down on the knuckle. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“Bolin,” Wei says, a touch frustrated, “I want to. How many times do I have to say that?” His hand slows at the tip and Bolin shudders with arousal. He hopes it’s enough to stop Bolin’s protests, but, well, it’s Bolin- he always has more to say.

“What did you mean when you said you wanted to give me something in return?” Bolin pants out. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows and reach a hand out to place on top of Wei’s and still him. “You don’t owe me anything, if that’s why you’re doing this. You know that, right?”

“What?” Wei blinks, unsure what Bolin is talking about. Had he not heard him? Wei wanted to do this; give back to Bolin, yes, but also for, admittedly, his own selfish reasons. He leans down and kisses Bolin again, relieved when he leans into it and lays back down with a small whimper. That seems to do the trick and gets him settled again. 

Wei continues to pump his hand a few more times before switching back to his mouth. Boiln is solid, a little sweaty, but otherwise very inviting. Wei steels himself and plants his hands firmly on Bolin’s hips before bobbing his head a few times experimentally. 

Bolin responds with another slackjaw groan and tries to buck his hips, but Wei holds him in place as he speeds up. He’s only ever done this once, back with one of the guards his age in Zaofu, but he’s received more than enough to have an idea of what to do. There were, undoubtedly, some social perks to being a part of your city’s founding family. 

But, here, none of that mattered. Here, he was just Wei and below him was just Bolin.

“Wei,” Bolin rasps, “I’m close. I’m getting close. So close.” His hips buck harder and Wei can’t keep him fully still anymore. “Please, please, please, yes,” he begs. 

“I’m sorry,” Bolin says before letting go. Wei pulls back at the last minute, some of the warmth catching his bottom jaw and the collar of his shirt. It’s, admittedly, not a great taste overall, but it comes with a wash of satisfaction at the sight of Bolin boneless and satisfied beneath him. His heart beats hard in his chest and he studies Bolin like this; dark hair a mess, knees hiked up with one around Wei’s waist, hands curled into the fabric of his shirt.

Bolin blinks a few times, drowsiness settling in. He catches Wei’s eyes and breaks out into a warm, lopsided grin. “That was nice.” A pause, as Bolin becomes more aware of his surroundings. “Oh! Your face. I’m so sorry, here.” In a quick motion, Bolin slips off his shirt. “It’s clean, I swear. I put it on just before you came back.”

Wei accepts the fabric shoved into his hands, noting to himself how warm it is. How it smells so strongly of Bolin. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna ruin your shirt, man.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just a shirt.” He beams at Wei who starts wiping at his face and the attention feels distinctly… different. Not unfamiliar, or unwanted, but different. Bolin’s expression is like watching the petals of a flower unfurl after a long rainstorm. 

“Do you- do you need help?” Bolin motions downwards. “I can help you out. I really don’t mind.”

Wei pauses to consider. He’d been so wrapped up in getting Bolin off, he’d barely paid any notice to his own needs. His hips move of their own volition and twitch against Bolin’s stomach. “Just stay like this,” Wei says. He peels down his own trousers, boxers too, and takes himself in his own hand. “I just want you to watch.”

Bolin nods, breath hitching in his throat. “I can do that. I’ve been told I’m  _ very _ attentive,” Bolin says. Wei knows he’s going for a joke, but Bolin had been nothing but attentive ever since Wei landed in Republic City. Even now, he focuses on Wei; lips parted, hands on his hips, eyes trained on Wei’s movements. 

He strokes himself quick and hard, desperate to get off suddenly— but a hand catches his own and he stills.

“I told you I wanted to watch,” Bolin says, his voice low, pleading. “Enjoy yourself. I’m in no rush.”

At that, Wei slows and strokes himself slower, more fully, Bolin’s hand still covering his own. He bites back a groan. His face is flushed and part of him is trembling at the vulnerability, but right now he’s only here to chase pleasure. “You look so good like this,” Bolin whispers, and suddenly Wei realizes Bolin is controlling the strokes.

Wei lets him.

As Bolin takes over, Wei leans forward to bring their foreheads together. He’s just a touch taller than Bolin, no more than a couple inches, but it takes some rearranging so they’re face to face. Wei’s breathing is shallow now, his hips twitching every time Bolin’s calloused hand twists around the tip of dick. “You really know what you’re doing, huh?” Wei laughs. “How many guys have you jacked off before me?”

“A gentleman never tells,” Bolin says, forcing some levity into his voice— but he frowns, and his grip slackens just slightly. Wei feels like he’s hit a nerve there, so he backs off the topic and instead moves in for another sloppy kiss. Bolin groans underneath him and he starts stroking Wei faster. 

“Fuck— Bolin, this feels so good.” And he means it, too. Sure, he’d gotten handjobs before, but there’s something about the immediacy of everything, something about the desperation of two men sprawled on the floor, something about Bolin being the one doing it, that makes Wei’s stomach clench. The setting sun coming in through the window is warm on his back. 

“You deserve it,” Bolin says, and at that, Wei is spilling hot over Bolin’s hand.

“Shit, shit,” Wei curses, thrusting wet and slick against Bolin’s stomach as he pumps a few last strokes out. He goes boneless and buries his face into the crook of Bolin’s neck. 

Wei feels his face flush and he’s biting back a sudden urge to laugh. The absurdity of everything hits him at once and he’s sliding off of Bolin and lays down flat on the carpet, breathing deeply to center himself. He covers his eyes with his arm to take a moment.

“Everything okay?”

Wei waves a hand, tired laughter leaking out of him. “Let’s just get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Bolin doesn’t answer right away, so Wei lifts the arm covering his eyes to peer up at the other man. Bolin’s still there, unmoving, looking down at Wei the same way someone might stare at something that brings a comforting memory or feeling. 

“Noodles are on me,” Bolin says.


End file.
